


Don't Give a Damn ('Bout My Bad Reputation)

by romanticalgirl



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Midtown, The Academy Is...
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-05
Updated: 2010-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-23 11:19:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've never been afraid of any deviation</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Give a Damn ('Bout My Bad Reputation)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://inlovewithnight.livejournal.com/profile)[**inlovewithnight**](http://inlovewithnight.livejournal.com/) for the beta. This is not based on any particular knowledge of facts, but since when does that get in the way? William is roughly 16 in this fic.

  
Gabe won’t admit that he likes all ages shows, because everyone else would laugh at him, and he’s not a huge fan of being laughed at, but he does. He loves the raw energy that the kids bring, none of it fueled by too much booze, all of it pure enthusiasm and caffeine highs. It reminds him of himself, so determined to be part of something that he stood at the edge of stages night after night, lost in the music and the darkness and the crush of the crowd. He likes looking down and seeing the jaded masks fall away as the music takes over, seeing them raw and open and exposed, _feeling_ the words and the bass line like every word was written just for them, like every song is the secret they’ve been hiding inside.

They’re somewhere on the outskirts of Chicago, some suburb made up of too-rich kids and too-poor kids like the kind John Hughes used to make movies about, but in the clubs – Breakfast or otherwise – you can’t tell the difference. Gabe’s been watching the crowd through the opening acts, a local group with some goofy looking kid in a fedora rocking the fuck out of the drums, and then another band that’s been catching some of their gigs with them. The crowd is into the local band, screaming along with the lyrics like they helped write them or they’re afraid the singer’s going to forget the next verse. Gabe smiles to himself, smirks really, because it never changes, and watches the crowd some more.

After the show, he gets cornered by the drummer from the local band, a kid who doesn’t look old enough to be out past eight on a school night. He’s cute in a shy kind of way, sweat gluing his reddish hair to his forehead. Gabe leans against the wall and lets him talk about music, nodding along with his ideas. Somewhere along the way, possibly by the third whiskey, he loses the thread of the conversation or possibly more than that when the short redhead is replaced by a tall, thin brunet with legs that look about four miles long and pants so tight Gabe’s worried the kid’s going to pass out if someone rubs against him wrong.

The kid leans in and Gabe’s busy trying to guess his age – sixteen? Maybe seventeen? – when he starts to talk. “I’m William Beckett.”

“What happened to the drummer?”

“He’s over talking to Pete.”

“Oh.” Gabe takes another drink of whiskey and glances around. He knows who Pete is – Arma Angelus is fairly well known, though Gabe’s not a huge fan of the band or the front man – “So you’re his replacement?”

“What?” William blushes and Gabe watches the red flood his pale skin. It’s kind of hot in a jailbait sort of way, the kind of way that Gabe’s not supposed to pay attention to, at least according to the other members of his band. Who are currently off somewhere, probably with jailbait of their own. “Oh. No. I’m just…I’m a big fan.”

“Right. I figured, since you were at the show.” He’s used to this. The awkward conversation with fans who aren’t sure whether to gush and scare him with their knowledge of his music and his life or to be shy and silent and respectful. Gabe’s not particularly good at either, but this kid seems honestly uncertain of what to do.

“I’m a musician.”

Gabe swallows down the rest of his whiskey as everything becomes clear. There’s also this type of kid, the one who looks at Gabe like he’s got the secret to the meal ticket, the secret to stardom. “Don’t bother, kid.”

“I…what?”

“Trust me, if I knew how to make you famous, I wouldn’t be here playing shows for you and your buddies.”

“No. That’s not what…” William stops and smiles and Gabe stomach twists at the sight of the crooked tilt. Save him from fucking poets, man. “I mean, it’s why I love your stuff. Your lyrics and your music. You’re an artist.”

“You’re a bullshitter.” Gabe smiles and licks his lips. “I like that.”

William smiles and Gabe ignores the little voices in his head telling him to walk away. Walking away from _anything_ has never been his strong suit, especially when it’s likely to backfire or kick him in the balls. And this kid has _bad idea, Gabriel_ written on him like glowing neon letters. Gabe matches William’s smile and reminds himself he’s only going to live once, plus, what are the odds he’s ever going to see this kid again?

He reaches out and slips a finger in William’s belt loop, tugging him further back stage. “C’mere.”

William stumbles after him, coltish, and Gabe has a brief, flashing thought of _ride him_ that disappears in the semi-darkness, only William’s wide eyes illuminated in the green light of the exit sign. “What are we…” William swallows and looks up at Gabe. “What…”

“Shh,” Gabe’s voice rumbles softly as he steps closer, holding William against the wall without even touching him. Gabe licks his lips and watches the expressions play across William’s face. The kid can’t hide anything, from confusion to shock to want to hope to disbelief, and it’s almost painful to watch. Or would be if Gabe didn’t like what he sees. He takes another step in and touches William’s jaw. Gabe can feel him swallow, his long lashes exaggerating every blink.

“I…”

“I know.” Gabe leans in and brushes his lips against William’s, breath ghosting over them more than an actual touch, but William’s mouth opens anyway. Gabe bites back a groan and leans in, actually kissing him this time, tasting the sweet sugary taste of soda on his breath.

William’s breath hitches and stops somewhere in his chest as he tilts his head back, opening up under Gabe’s mouth. Gabe settles his hand on William’s hip; thumb brushing the bare skin between his jeans and t-shirt as his tongue slides between William’s lips. William manages to completely his breath, gasping softly. “Oh.”

“It’s okay,” Gabe whispers, nuzzling at the bare expanse of William’s throat as he tilts his head back, rising up on his toes so he’s taller, fits better against Gabe. Gabe teeth scrape at the soft skin, feeling the faint threat of stubble against his lips. He works his way up to William’s jaw, sucking red marks on his way back to William’s mouth. “It’s easy.”

“H-hard,” William manages, his voice shaky. “It…it’s hard.”

Gabe laughs and kisses him again, his tongue exploring. William’s tongue is slightly rough from ice and soda, sliding against Gabe’s tentatively. Gabe makes a low noise, sucking on it, until William is plastered against him, hands fisted in Gabe’s sweaty t-shirt as he kisses back, moaning something low and desperate in Gabe’s mouth.

He pulls back enough to let William breathe, though he doesn’t seem to be doing a very good job of it. Gabe laughs low and goes back to nuzzling William’s neck, hand sliding up to trace the column of his throat. “Am I your first time, William Beckett?”

“I…I’ve…kissed b-before.” His voice is breathless, back to pre-puberty unevenness – assuming he’s all the way into puberty.

“Like this?” Gabe kisses him again, the hand not curved around William’s neck snaking down to open William’s fly. William shakes his head desperately and Gabe pulls back, looking at him from too close, his fingers still on William’s zipper. “No?”

“No. No.” He's fighting for breath, fighting for words. “Not…never like this.” His hips rock forward, his cock pressing against Gabe’s hand. “Please. Oh, God. Please.”

Gabe slips his hand down, the sound of the zipper unheard against the pounding bass line of the sound system. William’s eyes are huge as he blinks up at Gabe and then looks down as Gabe’s hand wraps around him. There’s a noise Gabe feels more than hears and then William’s eyes are closed and his head is back against the wall.

“O-oh…G-g-god.”

Gabe’s fingers slide along the length of William’s dick, moaning in the back of his throat at how thick and hard William is already, Gabe barely touching him. “Fuck,” Gabe breathes against William’s ear, closing the distance between them. “Fuck. Your cock. God, I could do so many fucking indecent things to your cock.”

William’s breath shudders roughly in his chest, stuttering out against Gabe’s shoulder. “I…”

“Suck you.” Gabe’s voice is low and rough from the set, but even more from the hot dryness in his throat at the thought of swallowing William’s dick, sucking it deep in his mouth, working it with his tongue. “Take you so fucking deep, wrap my mouth around you and taste you.”

William opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out but a gust of hot air. Gabe takes advantage of the moment, closing his mouth over William’s and thrusting his tongue past parted lips into the heat of William’s mouth. He meets Gabe’s tongue with his own, tentative but getting more aggressive until he falls apart in a shudder as Gabe’s fingers slide down his cock and curve around his balls. “O-oh. Oh. Oh. Oh f-fu-fuck.”

“Don’t even have to suck you, do I? Just touch you.” Gabe moves his hand back up, wrapping it around William’s cock and stroking him slowly. “You’d probably fly the fuck apart if I spread you open and slipped my fingers inside you.”

William’s head hits the wall loud enough that Gabe hears it and his entire body is arched toward Gabe’s, his cock pulsing against Gabe’s palm. He looks fucking lost somewhere in his head, shivering like there’s not sweat beaded on his throat, and the desperate, sibilant rush of ‘yes’ coming from his mouth is more than Gabe can resist. He kisses him again, tasting the words, tightening his hand around William and stroking him in earnest.

It doesn’t take long before William is coming over Gabe’s hand, body jerking hard and wild. Gabe strokes him through it until William slumps forward against him, sweaty forehead pressed against Gabe’s neck, his breath one hot gasp after another. Gabe’s hand is still on his neck; thumb feeling the desperate pounding of William’s pulse. “Okay?”

“That…you…” William shakes his head and the next thing Gabe knows, long, slick fingers are opening his jeans and sliding inside. Watching William had guaranteed his hard on, but the feeling of William’s fingers closing around him, tentative but still firm, causes his cock to jerk. He doesn’t bother talking, and there’s nothing like finesse in his strokes, but it’s tight and hot and Gabe’s worked up enough that it does the job, and he comes against the slide of William’s palm, pulsing between his spread fingers. The breath shudders out of William again as he looks down. “Oh.”

“You look like you could use a drink.”

“Or four.” William laughs softly, the sound a little rough around the edges. “That was…”

He’s cut off by Heath leaning into the hallway. “Yo! Saporta. You fucker. C’mon. Van’s loaded and ready to fucking roll, asshole.”

Gabe waves him off and leans in, kissing William again hard and possessive. It’s a stupid thing to do – he’s likely to never see the kid again – but he doesn’t get to be everybody’s first time. “I gotta go.” William’s frowning when he nods, until Gabe kisses him again, quick this time. “Keep working at your music, kid.” He wipes his hand on his jeans and manages to get himself tucked back into his clothes before he hits the back door, and he has to run to catch up with the van as it starts pulling away.  



End file.
